


Blue Shirt and Fire Eyes

by Alarmingly_Gay



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (small amount of hurt but a lot of comfort), Angst at the beginning, Dream is malnourished, Dream is physically weak, Dream is touch starved, Dream lost his marbles, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insanity, Literally just George and Sapnap taking care of Dream, M/M, Prison, Rating Might Change, SO MUCH FLUFF, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, idk how else to tag this, nursing him back to health kinda, prison break - Freeform, this is a comfort fic for me, very small mention of past torture at one point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29302296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alarmingly_Gay/pseuds/Alarmingly_Gay
Summary: It had been ten months since Dream’s last visitor had come to see him in prison. Ten months allowing him to slowly slip into filth and insanity all alone in his cell. His only friend was his clock, and he loved it with every fibre of his being. Every waking moment he would spend staring at it, and every night he would doze off to the comforting repetitive tick, tock, tick, tock. When he’d been rescued, he had almost been unwilling. The obsidian box had become home, and he had his clock in here, he couldn’t leave his clock.  When Dream hissed at the feeling of a material softer than obsidian under his feet however, George realized this was going to be a long recovery.Aka being in prison so long seriously fucked up Dream both physically and mentally and now George and Sapnap have to nurse him back to health
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 471





	1. Netherrack and Blue Shirt

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! First time posting on ao3. This is a personal comfort fic for me, just a bunch of healing and comforting for Dreamie after prison hurt him. No specific mental illness is portrayed here, and his mental state is based on how I actually behaved/thought after being isolated from other people for the majority of my childhood. Overall it’s a weird combo of a vent fic/comfort fic and if you read it I hope it can make you feel better like it makes me feel better. Feel free to drop suggestions for things Sapnap and George should do to help Dream, since I don’t have much of a plan for future chapters. 
> 
> Enjoy! <3

It had been ten months since Dream’s last visitor had come to see him in prison. Ten months allowing him to slowly slip into filth and insanity all alone in his cell. His only friend was his clock, and he loved it with every fibre of his being. Every waking moment he would spend staring at it, and every night he would doze off to the comforting repetitive _tick, tock, tick, tock._ When he’d been rescued, he had almost been unwilling. The obsidian box had become home, and he had his clock in here, he couldn’t leave his clock. But George hadn’t had time for hesitation, so he’d simply shoved the clock into his chest pocket and jumped through the nether portal he’d created, knowing Dream would follow him blindly as long as he had the device. When Dream hissed at the feeling of a material softer than obsidian under his feet however, George realized this was going to be a long recovery. 

Dream let an instinctive hiss out when his bare foot brushed the netherrack, staring with a pained and desperate look at his precious clock. Blue Shirt was holding it hostage, and he looked irritated as Dream clung to the familiar obsidian of the portal. It was so far from the portal to Blue Shirt, to his clock, it looked like more than four blocks. Four of these strange red looking blocks that felt wrong to touch. They were warm and not impossibly solid, he felt like he could even break one by fist if given long enough. He whimpered and gave Blue Shirt a conflicted look, eyes locked onto the comforting display showing a moon at its peak in a starry sky. It was dark on the surface, it never got dark in Dream’s home. He shivered and fought the urge to burst into tears as he righted himself on the netherrack, it felt so wrong, he didn’t like it. _Go home, go home, no like, go home!_ His thoughts screamed at him, but he couldn’t. Not without his clock. He whimpered and dragged himself forward, making grabby hands at Blue Shirt, at his clock, and he almost collapsed and screamed when Blue Shirt began to walk even further away.  
“No, nonono PLEASE NO,” he screamed, standing still and burying his face in the sleeves of his prison jumpsuit. He didn’t like it. He hated it. The floor felt wrong, the space was so open, there were no walls, and his beloved clock was being taken away by this scary man with weirdly familiar goggles. He felt hot tears trailing down his sleeves, what did Blue Shirt want from him? Was he just trying to make him feel horrible? Was he ever going to give the clock back? He started to sob, he wanted to drop to his knees but instead went on his tippy toes, touching as little of himself to the netherrack as possible. He couldn’t hold the position for long though, his muscleless malnourished frame barely holding him upright in the first place. He just wanted the clock back, why was Blue Shirt doing this to him? He peeked up from his sleeves when he heard Blue Shirt huff in annoyance, and when he was scooped up off the ground for his first physical human contact in over a year he broke. Blue Shirt was holding him, he was being draped over Blue Shirt’s shoulders. He could smell his cologne, feel his soft brown hair brushing his neck, his sturdy arms keeping Dream’s frail and near weightless form firmly in place over his shoulders as he trekked through the arid dryness of the nether. Dream sobbed harder, but now it was a powerful wave of relief he was expressing. He clung to Blue Shirt like a lifeline, rubbing his face against his shoulder adoringly and drinking in his scent in deep lungfuls. He pulled his clock out of the older man’s pocket and pressed a kiss to the gold metal frame, gleefully basking in the first positive emotions he’d felt since being locked away. His joyful sobbing broke off into uncontrolled giggles as he grabbed the man’s face in his hands, turning it to face him and squishing his cheeks. Blue Shirt looked alarmed and deeply confused, but his face went red for some reason when Dream left a long wet grandma kiss on his forehead before resuming his joyous giggles. He let go of Blue Shirt’s cheeks and continued rubbing his face into his neck and shoulder, humming a tune with no pattern or melody and simply expressing the amount of glee he was experiencing.  
“Yeah I’ve got em Sap, I’m bringing him back to the base. No he’s not, he’s lost his bloody mind,” he heard Blue Shirt speaking into the communicator but didn’t care, all he knew in that moment was how deeply he adored his saviour.  
“Blue Shirt, where are we going?” Dream inquired, relaxing his aching and weak bones onto the soft reassuring warmth of the man’s muscled shoulders. He closed his eyes to listen to his new favourite person’s pulse while he waited for a response, letting more thankful and overjoyed tears slip as he rested his head on Blue Shirt’s collarbones.  
“Blue wha— oh forget it. We’re going to a place where you’ll be safe. Don’t worry, I’ve already had your room given a nice obsidian floor and there’s a nice warm bed for you, also a shower,” Blue Shirt accentuated the word shower, whatever that was. He seemed to think Dream needed it badly. Dream suddenly heard the familiar whispers of a nether portal and he opened his eyes to peek, realizing they’d come to the end of their winding trek through a warped forest. Before he even had a chance to wonder what was on the other side, Blue Shirt stepped inside, and he felt himself being swept between dimensions back into the overworld.


	2. Into the Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream finds out where he'll be living for a while, and discovers how much he loves the sound of keys jingling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter, whoo! I may post the third chapter today as well if I get the motivation to do so, since I'm very much enjoying the writing of this fic so far. If you want me to detail what exactly caused Dream's memory slip and all of his strange behaviour while in prison in a future chapter then say so below, because I'm on the fence about making this a short fic with little to no plot or making it a long one with lots of plot and a happy ending. So yeah, if you want backstory make sure you say so, but for now enjoy Dream being wholesome. In the next chapter he gets a bit more aggressive and feral with Sapnap because Sapnap's not very used to caring for him, but I won't spoil it for you guys. Don't worry, there aren't any hard feelings after. This one's a little bit longer, so sorry if you don't like long chapters but I got carried away. 
> 
> Enjoy this chapter <3

The first thing Dream noticed when he landed back in the overworld, was the smell of food. Not potatoes, but actual real food. It filled his lungs and he lifted his head to look around, clueless to the fact that he was drooling on his rescuer’s shoulder. They appeared to be in a dark oak forest, but it wasn’t any forest Dream recognized. Blue Shirt seemed to know what he was doing, breaking the portal behind himself before marching down a near invisible trail deeper into the trees. There was the sound of a stream gurgling quietly nearby, the distant mooing of wild cows, and the rustling of wind through the leaves of the giant dark oaks surrounding them. Not wanting to drop his clock in the forest, Dream carefully slotted it back into Blue Shirt’s chest pocket before relaxing and gazing up at the sky. Through the leaves Dream could just barely spot the stars, and was immediately mesmerized by the brief sight. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen stars that didn’t come from the dull glow of his clock’s display. They were absolutely stunning, distant blips of light in the void of the night sky. He felt his anxiety over leaving his home melting into a sort of sleepy wonder, and he let his eyelids droop at the gentle rhythmic swaying of Blue Shirt’s footsteps. This was outside, and it smelled like fresh baked bread and morning dew and plants. He found himself once again wondering why he could smell bread, frowning at what a strange smell it was for a forest. His questions were answered however when they passed an air exchange, it was simply a small hole in the ground covered by a grate that was emitting delicious food-smelling air. _Why hole? Someone live down there?_ He thought briefly, before his questions were answered by Blue Shirt stopping in front of a specific tree. He pulled out a ring of keys, and they made a wonderful jingly sound that was like music. Dream immediately snatched away the keyring, shaking it hard to hear more of those jingles. He watched the moonlight reflect off the shiny metal, entirely focused on the mesmerizing noises the keys made when he clinked them together. Blue Shirt sighed heavily and he felt himself being lowered onto the forest floor, the foreign feeling of grass making him tense up and shake.  
“Hey, you’re okay, look at me,” Blue Shirt coaxed him, and he felt the anxiety lessen when he stared into the strange tinted lenses of his new friend’s weirdly familiar goggles. “Listen, I need you to give me those keys or we can’t get inside the base, alright? You don’t want to spend the night out here, do you?” Dream didn’t really understand the correlation between the keys and spending the night in the forest, and he also didn’t exactly see a base anywhere that they could spend the night in. As Blue Shirt continued trying to convince him to hand over the keys, Dream quickly lost interest and found himself inspecting the man’s face closer while he talked, something about it was hauntingly familiar. His jawline, his hair, the soft slope of his nose and the way his ears poked out from the strap of his goggles. His voice was sweet and high, it almost sounded like the keys. Jingly and light even when he was frustrated. His face looked soft and squishy, and Dream remembered the feeling of squishing his cheeks. It made his heart feel fluttery, it had been so long since he’d felt the warmth of another human under his fingertips, and he couldn’t help the dopey grin that spread across his face at the memory. He wanted to feel that again, it made him happy, and he wanted more of that happy feeling. Without a second thought he dropped the keys into the dirt and reached up to Blue Shirt’s cheeks again, squishing them between his open palms and beaming.  
“You sound jingly like the keys, Blue Shirt,” he giggled, his spaced out expression finally coming back to earth.  
“I-- What? Blue Shirt? Why do you keep on calling me that-- Dream, do you not remember my name?” Blue Shirt removed Dream’s hands from his face with a flustered and confused expression, picking the keys up from the ground where Dream had abandoned them in the dirt. Dream only tilted his head curiously, trying to puzzle out why he recognized Blue Shirt’s face if he’d never seen him before. “Dream, I’m your best friend. I’m George, don’t you remember that? All the time we spent together?” Blue Shirt finally removed his goggles, and revealed beautiful brown eyes filled with sympathy and concern. Dream didn’t understand the rush of nostalgia and longing those brown eyes gave him, he didn’t understand why Blue Shirt looked worried, or why he just couldn’t seem to hold on to the strange memory flashes that filtered through his head.  
“Of course you’re my best friend,” he began, still rather confused. “You saved me from that scary man with the yellow armour.”  
“Oh Dream. . . What the hell did they do to you in there,” Blue Shirt’s voice cracked and he teared up, and Dream immediately felt a pang of guilt dig its claws into his soul. Why was Blue Shirt crying? Did he do something wrong? No, no he _couldn’t_ hurt Blue Shirt like this, he needed to fix it, but he didn’t know how. In the heat of the moment he simply went with his strongest instinct, and looked Blue Shirt dead in the eyes.  
“I know you. I can’t think, but I remember your eyes Blue Shirt. I could never forget your eyes,” he leaned forward, wincing as his knees touched the dirt, and pressed his forehead to Blue Shirt’s with his eyes squeezed shut. When he pulled away after a moment, his saviour’s eyes were wide and his face held an emotion Dream couldn’t decipher. All he knew is he had stopped Blue Shirt from crying, and that meant what he did must’ve been good. An affectionate smile and a light blush spread across the smaller man’s cheeks, and he shook his head with a resigned sigh.  
“Even after whatever torture they subjected you to, you’re still you Dreamie. . . Come on, Sap’s waiting for us inside the base. He’s got food ready and a bath,” Blue Shirt hoisted Dream back over his shoulders, and Dream watched in awe as he slotted one of the iron keys into a barely visible keyhole that had been carved out of that same dark oak tree Blue Shirt had originally pulled his keys out in front of. With a quiet grunt of effort he turned the key, and the quiet of the forest at night was broken by loud mechanical grinding and clanking. The forest floor was pulled open to reveal a staircase leading deep into the earth, and Blue Shirt removed the key before shoving the keyring back into his pocket. As they descended into the ground, Dream shivered and held onto his shoulders a little tighter, unsure of where they were headed but certain it would be a lot colder than the warmth of his lava encased prison cell. He heard the mechanism automatically shut the piston door behind them, and he scrunched up his nose at the smell of dirt filling his nostrils now that the air from the surface had stopped coming in. The damp musty smell of dirt began to give way to the aroma of bread and steak, and Dream’s eyes widened when the packed dirt walls of the staircase tunnel were replaced by smooth slabs of stone and brick. The ground levelled out and Blue Shirt pulled out his communicator, rounding a left-turn corner and coming face to face with a large iron door.  
“Oooooh who are you talking to--”  
“Shhh! . . . Hey Sap, I’m outside. Can you let us in? I’ve got Dream here, so just be careful and don’t make any sudden movements. . . Uh huh. . . Yep. . . Don’t worry he seems friendly, I’m just worried he’ll bolt and get lost in the tunnels. . . Yeah. . .Alright good plan,” Blue Shirt clicked off the device right as the iron door swung open, and Dream fought the urge to pester him about who had been on the other side of the call. When they stepped inside, Dream was greeted by the sight of a surprisingly comfortable underground home. The first room had a large wooden support pillar in the centre, and it was shaped like a rough oval. The roof was made out of dark oak taken from the forest, log support beams and planks crisscrossing into a pattern almost reminiscent of plaid. Midway down the dome of the walls it changed into bricks, and finally smooth stone tiles lined the floor. The room was split down the middle into two separate rooms, what appeared to be a kitchen and what appeared to be a living room of sorts. Pale blue carpet lined the floor of the living room, and bookshelves lined the walls. In the centre was a single large couch with a coffee table, the table being neatly stacked with leather bound storybooks and forest-living guides. The kitchen held a wood-burning stove, a small table sporting three chairs, a few cabinets, a sink, and a redstone-powered wooden refrigerator covered in to-do lists and notes. On the table a fresh loaf of bread was cooling, and stoking the wooden stove was a man with medium length black hair. His hair was kept out of his eyes by a white cloth bandanna, and he wore a white apron spattered with the ingredients for bread dough over his plain black turtleneck and sweatpants. When he turned and smiled at Dream, his eyes lit up. They were powerful and energetic, and as he saw the licking flames of the stove reflected in his greyish-black pupils one thought rose to his mind. _Fire eyes._


End file.
